Adventures in Time and Space
by Sebastian Max
Summary: The Doctor goes on grand adventures with a new-found companion. Might hurt your feels sometimes. Sorry. I almost cried during Chapter 2, so be warned. Give ideas in the comments for their next adventure.
1. The King

I stood in the middle of the forest of bamboo. I gazed at the sky, studying it. A gentle breeze blew through the bamboo, throwing my hair into the air. I turned in a slow circle, gently pushing my hair away from my face. I heard a strange noise, and the wind picked up. It sounded like a wheezing man. My face lit up. I listened for a second, until the noise faded. A creak sounded behind me and a man's voice said, "You called?" I spun, facing the blue box. A man stood in front. I beamed, "Sure did." The man held a hand towards me. I caught it, and he led me through the creaking door.

I glanced at the room spreading out around me. "Nothing?" the man asked. I shook my head. "I'm used to it," I said nonchalantly. His jaw dropped, "How? I'm not used to it half the time. I still get lost in here." I smiled and stepped up to the console. Lights flashed. Buttons beeped. Levers tempted me. Graphics flashed and spun on a screen over the console. I walked in a slow circle, looking at nearly every inch of the control panel. I turned, "Where are we going?" He threw something at me, and I just barely managed to catch it. It was a chain with a key hanging from it. "But I haven't even had one adventure yet. I'm not qualified for this," I held the key carefully, recognizing it on site. It was the key to the blue box. "You know more about the TARDIS than I do, almost. You're the first companion I've ever had that wasn't surprised by the dimensional transcendentalism. You are fascinating," he said, excitedly. "I-I'm a companion now?" I asked in disbelief. He smiled, and it was that broad smile that you couldn't resist smiling back to.

"Where are we going first?" I asked. He shook his head, "Where do you want to go?" I sighed, "No idea. I could settle for 1950s earth to meet Elvis. I could settle for Victorian London. I could settle to meet the queen. I could meet the President of the United States. I could go to my parent's wedding. All of time and space is a lot to choose from. But first, I think I want to sing with Elvis." I laughed, "Silly dream, I know." I looked at him. He was staring at her. I felt ashamed. "No Elvis then?" I asked. His jaw dropped, "You want to sing with Elvis? I've always wanted to meet Elvis!" He beamed, and I laughed.

The wheezing noise had returned. "And you just pull that lever there," he pointed across the console. I pulled the lever. "Hold down the button on the left and press the blinking yellow one," he relayed instructions to me from across the console as I carefully completed them. A loud boom shook the TARDIS. "Oops," he said, "Hit the blue button and pull that lever at the same time." I did. The wheezing noise stopped. "We've landed," I gasped. He threw some clothing at me. It was a poodle skirt and a white blouse. "Wardrobe is down the hall," he pointed. I skipped off.

When I returned, all dolled up, he was waiting. He was dressed nicely in a black leather jacket, white t-shirt, rolled up denim jeans, and aviator shades. His hair was greased back. He offered his arm, and I hooked my arm through his. My skirt swished as we strode towards the doors. He pulled the door open for me, and I stepped out. I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the bright sunlight. I gasped.

The TARDIS had landed on a street corner. Just down the road to the left was a theater. On the side of the theater were loads of signs advertising "the King." I turned, "I can't believe we're actually here!" He nodded, "I know." On an impulse, I started to run towards the theater. I ran down the street, as fast as I could. When I reached the theater, I paused for a breath. The Doctor ran up behind me. "What was that?" he asked, completely out of breath. "I was excited. Now, I'm not so sure. I've never sung on stage in front of thousands, maybe millions, of people before," I gasped, my heart fluttering. "Oh, I'm not going to be able to do this," I held my face in my hands. He patted my shoulder, "You'll be fine." I raised my eyebrows at him, "How do you know?" He laced his fingers through mine, "I don't." He strode towards the stage entrance, pulling me along behind him.

Naturally, the stage entrance was guarded. The security guards blocked the door completely. When we approached one guard huffed and asked for an ID. The Doctor pulled a small leather wallet out of his coat pocket. He flipped it open and showed the guards. "Well, why didn't you say so?" the guard asked. He pushed open the door, allowing us through. Once inside, with the door closed behind us, we both giggled. "Who does it say we are?" I asked. The Doctor showed me the paper inside the wallet. _The King of England plus one_, the first line read, followed by an entire ID for him. "Plus one?" I asked him, laughing, "I thought that was Rose's title." "You don't think you deserve it?" he laughed. He slipped the wallet back in his pocket. We hooked arms and strode through the backstage, looking for Elvis.

I fingered the key around her neck. We were standing at the door of Elvis's dressing room. The Doctor had already knocked, with no response. I had suggested calling out "room service" after knocking, but the idea had been vetoed. He raised his hand to knock again just as the door opened. In the doorway stood "the King" himself, Elvis Presley. I gasped. Elvis smiled. The Doctor quickly lowered his fist. "Well, hello there," Elvis said. The Doctor and I glanced at each other. I squealed. "Uh, hello, Mr. Elvis," the Doctor stuttered. "My friend here wants to sing. With you," he quickly added. "She'll have to sing _to_ me first," Elvis said, "See how good she is." He ushered us into his dressing room.

I stood, facing the Doctor and Elvis. Both had surprised looks on their faces. They exchanged glances. "You got a strong voice, little one," Elvis noted. The Doctor nodded his agreement. "Didn't know she could actually sing," he said. I placed her hands on my hips. "You were just going to let me sing out there, not even knowing how good I was?" I asked him. He smiled nervously, "Maybe." I rolled my eyes. "I reckon you can sing with me, youngin'," Elvis smiled, "What songs do you know?"

Looking back, there was no reason to have stage fright. I had surprised Elvis, after all. Still, the thought of thousands of people watching me scared me. I strode out on the stage with confidence, the Doctor having just given me a pep talk. Nothing to be afraid of, I told myself. I sang my heart out, Elvis at my side. Every girl in the audience looked on, with jealousy in their eyes. When the song ended, I hurried towards the Doctor's open arms. He hugged me tight, and I was sure he could hear my heart beating. "Brilliant," he told me, "You did brilliant."

Back aboard the TARDIS, we had both changed back into their regular clothes. I leaned against the console, willing my heart to slow down. I could still hear it pounding in my ears. The Doctor touched my arm, making me jump. "Shall we go home and tell your friends?" he asked me. I laughed, "They'd never believe me." "Worth a shot," he pushed a button behind me. He pointed to a lever and I pulled it. "No place like home," I called over the wheezing of the engines.

The TARDIS had materialized in my school parking lot. We both stepped out, the door creaking alarmingly loud. I turned to him, "I'll miss you." He nodded, "Same here." We hugged. "Until next time," I told him. "And there will be a next time," he promised. I didn't trust myself not to cry, so I turned and began to run towards the school building. I stopped. "Thank you," II called back. The TARDIS was already gone. I ran inside and up the stairs. I stepped, gasping into the classroom just as the bell rang. My friends stared at me. "You're never going to believe this," I told them.


	2. Honest Abe

**A/N:** One part of this is slightly inaccurate, historically, but oh, well. Also, thumbs up if you get the Corporal Byrne thing. I felt like I had to publidh this in time for Abe's Birthday, which is Thursday, so goal accomplished. I'm just so proud of it! Hope everyone enjoys it. -SM

The average day begins with breakfast, for normal people. With me, each new day brings the same old wish back. A wish to travel among the stars, as I once did. It feels as if many years have passed since that day, but only a few months have gone. My morning routine starts off with me pacing the floor, by now I've got a rut worked into it. As I'm pacing, I look at my ceiling and mutter one word several hundred times, the word "Please." Then I sit and wait, listening for the sound that brings hope to the nations. But it never comes, and I wind up shuffling down the stairs to breakfast, thoroughly disappointed, every morning.

My roommate tells me I was restless again last night, but I don't listen because I already know. I was listening for him. But my roommate doesn't understand my fantasies, so I don't bother to tell her.

That's when I hear it, the wheezing sound I had played in my head over and over again. But it sounds different, faded for some reason. I am too excited to dwell on this fact, for the noise is coming from my kitchen. Thrilled, I dash in. My roommate stands at the counter with her hand in the cookie jar. The lid is open and it is wheezing away. My shoulders hunch.

"I told you we shouldn't have bought this cookie jar," my roommate smiles. Defeated, I fall into one of our mismatched dining room chairs. She pats my shoulder. "Still waiting?" she asks. I nod. "Well," she begins, clearing the table, "You don't have any classes today, so wander around the campus. See if you can find him. Or his little box." She nods at me before grabbing her bag and hurrying out the door.

I rush up the stairs and throw on a pair of ripped jeans, an old t-shirt, my trench coat and my running shoes. I take the stairs two at a time and hurry out the door. I pause on the porch. I have no idea where to look. I hold my head in my hands.

Then I hear it. It's very faint, but I can hear it nonetheless. This time I know it isn't the cookie jar. I rush down the cobbled street, following my ears. I pass my roommate and she looks up, surprised. I wave as I keep running. I'm sure I'll find him this time. The ground crunches beneath my feet as I pass onto the grass. I keep running. By now, I am entirely out of breath, but that doesn't stop me. I run until I see it. There it stands, pretty as a dream. The door creaks, and out steps a man. The man from that day. I have found him again! He scans the scenery.

"Wrong spot," he comments, turning to disappear through the door again.

"Wait!" I call after him. He turns towards me. "Remember me?" I ask him. His expression is blank, but it lights up as he recognizes me.

"Oh! You're the girl who went with me to see Elvis! Of course I remember you. Do you still have your key?" he asks. I nod, holding the chain up for him to see. He smiles and opens his arms. "Welcome back," he says through his smile. I hug him.

"Now!" he says, stepping back through the doors. "Where shall we go this time? There's a lovely moon we could visit, it's actually an amusement park. We could meet more famous people. We could do so many things! All of time and space. Where do you choose?" he points at me.

Without hesitation, I answer, "Abraham Lincoln. I want to meet Honest Abe."

"You have this all thought out, don't you?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Maybe," I reply, refusing to give away my secret.

He shrugs, "Makes things easier for me." He flips a few switches and I lay my hands on the console. I can feel it humming beneath my fingers. "Pull that lever over there," he says, pointing. I do as he says. The wheezing sound of the engines begins. "Now flip that switch and hit that button simultaneously," he calls. I repeat with my hands what he has told me. He turns the time knob. "How about 1865? Ford's Theatre?" he asks.

I look up at him, "I don't want to see him get assassinated! I want to speak to him." He looks at me, surprised. Then he turns the time knob again.

"1861. A few months before the war," he corrects. The wheezing stops and I glance at the doors. "There's a new world out there, waiting to be discovered," he says.

"Won't we cause suspicion in these clothes?" I ask, running my hand over the console. He shakes his head.

"But if you're worried about it, you know where the wardrobe is," he points down the hall. I scurry away from the console room.

I find a long, black dress, lace up boots, and a black cape with red lining. I quickly dress in them, and glance at myself in the mirror. I give a short spin, before throwing my hair into a presentable style. Then I rush back to the console room.

The Doctor stands at the console, his hands gently caressing it. I clear my throat. He looks up at me.

"Right," he says, clearing his throat, "Let's get to business! Out you go!" He grabs his coat, throwing it on and skips to the door. He pushes it open and gestures outside. "Ladies first," he says, giving me a slight bow. I step around the console. With each step, I get more and more excited. I stop just before I step outside the doors. He reaches for my hand, and I look at it for a moment, before grabbing it tight.

When we step outside, I can tell we're not in the right place. Or rather, not the right time. I can see the Capitol Building's dome from here, but it's snowing. It doesn't snow in April. Not here. I look up, snow falling onto my face. I squeal with delight. The Doctor reels back in surprise.

"What's the matter?" he asks. I look at him.

"I have never seen snow before," I reply joyfully. I catch a few flakes in my palms and throw them back into the air. I laugh. That's when I hear another laugh. I stop and glance over to the Doctor, who is catching snowflakes on his tongue. I laugh again, and he notices me watching him. He smiles. I mimic him, catching some on my own tongue. I shiver as I finally realize I don't have a coat. The Doctor wraps his trench coat around me.

"Oh, you don't have to," I say in surprise, "You're probably cold, too. You can keep it on." I try to hand it back, but he refuses it.

"I'm not that cold, honest," he smiles. I put the coat on over my cape. It is surprisingly warm, and the inside is lined with a soft fabric similar to wool. I sigh in contentment. He holds his arm back out to me, and I take it. We walk slowly towards the dome in the distance. I stay silent, taking in the sights. Everything looks so beautiful when it is covered in snow. The snow continues to fall as we make our way closer to the Capitol. Then I see it. Just a slight movement in the corner of my eye, but I see it nonetheless. I gasp. It is a soldier. A Union soldier, caked in mud and melting snow. He shivers as he looks up at us. I was raised in the South, and we were never taught to have pity on the Union soldiers. They went through the same thing we had, but someone we had been taught that they deserved it. Now, seeing this human shiver in the cold, I wasn't so sure. The sight brought tears to my eyes. I kneeled in front of him. He shied away, and the tears threatened to spill out of my eyes.

"It's okay," I say, gently, as if I am soothing a puppy, "I won't hurt you. I just want to help." He shies away from my hand again. I feel a hand on my shoulder as the tears begin to fall down my face, freezing almost instantly. The Doctor kneels beside me, his hand still set reassuringly on my shoulder. He reaches out a hand tentatively to the soldier. The soldier takes it and allows the Doctor to help him up. My tears continue to fall as the Doctor speaks gently to the man, introducing himself and asking for a name. I see the man shiver. I gingerly remove the warm coat from around my shoulders. As the Doctor speaks in reassuring tones, I place it around the soldier's shoulders. He looks up at me.

"Thank you," he whispers in a thick Northern accent. I smile, even though I am still crying. The Doctor pulls me into a hug as shivers rack my body.

"What's your name?" he asks the soldier. The soldier shrugs, not willing to speak through his chattering teeth. "It's okay, you don't have to tell us," the Doctor reassures. He pats the soldier's back. "Would you like to walk with us?" the Doctor asks, offering the arm not occupied by me. The soldier takes it, leaning heavily on the Doctor. I glance down and cry out. I see why he leans on the Doctor so heavily.

"Doctor!" I cry, pulling out of his embrace to help the soldier. The Doctor looks to where I am pointing. The soldier's leg is shredded, just below the knee. Where he was knelling, the snow is a deep red. His trouser leg is soaked not only with melted snow but also sticky with blood. The Doctor helps him to sit, searching his pockets for anything to stop the bleeding. His hand comes up empty. He looks to me, desperation in his eyes.

"I need you to run to the TARDIS and search the med bay for a medical kit. She should understand what you need and help you to find it. I need you to hurry!" he practically shouts, which just proves his desperation. I run as fast as the dress will let me. Eventually, I hike up the skirt so I can be faster. The wind bites my face and I shiver again. I see the TARDIS and run faster. I whip out my key and quickly turn it in the lock. The door creaks open and I rush in.

"TARDIS! Help me! I need to find the med bay. Help me find it, please!" I shout. I know she can hear my thoughts, but shouting helps relieve my stress. She hums and I suddenly know exactly where to go. Which turns to take, which doors to open, which stairs to climb. I follow her instructions, running again. When I reach the right door, I open it and a medical kit is sitting in clear view right through the door. "Thanks!" I yell as I run out again.

By the time I reach the spot where the Doctor and the soldier are, I am out of breath.

"I brought it. The TARDIS helped me find it," I gasp. The harsh winter air stings my throat as I inhale deeply. The Doctor makes no effort to grab the kit from my hands. I look down at him. His eyes are misty and his face is tearstained. I look at the soldier. His eyes are closed, and the Doctor's hand rest over them. The soldier's chest is still, and he is no longer shivering. The tears start to fall, and I cannot stop them. The sight is beautiful, in a terrible way. My tears continue to fall as I kneel beside the Doctor.

"It's my fault," I sigh between sobs. "I was too slow. I let him die," my voice cracks on the last word. The sobs rack my body. I bring my hands up to my face, cradling my head. "I'm so sorry," I whisper to the soldier, although I know he is long gone. "I just want to go home," I say, looking up to the Doctor. His face softens. "I've ruined your day," I start to wipe the tears way from my face, even though they are still falling. The Doctor stands, offering his hand to help me up.

"He was on sentry duty," the Doctor tells me, rubbing my back as he speaks. "He was guarding the camp, but he didn't tell anyone that he was injured. No one knew," he looks away from the body. "We should tell someone," he clears his throat, "that he died." I can see his eyes misting up again.

"We will," I assure him, "He won't have died unnoticed." The Doctor picks up the medical kit and opens it. He pulls a large white sheet out of it and lays it gently over the soldier. He closes the medical kit and tucks it into his pocket. He offers his arm to me, and I feel like I'm in a funeral procession. We hook arms and set out on our search for the camp, tears still falling from my face.

When we reach the camp, we are almost sent away for fear of being spies. But the Doctor whips out the physic paper and solves that problem. The guard's eyes widen at the paper, but he lets us through. We find the head of the camp and tell him what we saw. The subject brings the tears back, and the captain invites us to stay for the soldier's funeral. We learn that his name was Corporal Byrne. I smile at the soldier who told us this, before the Doctor walks on, pulling me by the arm. When we attend his funeral, I'm pretty sure I cry the most out of all those in attendance. The Doctor tucks me under his arm and I can see his eyes misting up.

"Come on," I whisper, "Let's get out of here. We can find Abe and be back before sundown." The Doctor nods, and I know he's happy to be able to escape the sad scene. We sneak through the crowd, until we escape out of the back. Several blocks later, I can still hear the captain's voice in my head.

"And when he saw me, I felt so bad," the Doctor jokes. We are several blocks away from the White House, the funeral long behind us. "I mean, I showed up right in the middle of his office! I tried to run, but he had already seen me. I nearly died from embarrassment," he laughs. I laugh with him. "He called me over to him, and I was trying so hard to keep calm," he cracks up mid-sentence. His laugh makes me laugh harder. "So there I was, in the same room as Winston Churchill. And he was laughing away like we were old buddies. I was so confused, and, mind you, that doesn't happen often. So that was the time I met Churchill," he concludes, still laughing. I manage to catch my breath.

"You embarrassed yourself in front of Churchill?" I gasp between laughs. He sighs, then pauses. The gate surrounding the White House looms in front of us. I reach out a hand gingerly. I can't believe I'm actually here.

"Shall we knock?" the Doctor asks. I nod excitedly.

"Abraham Lincoln is on the other side of that door!" I squeal with delight, and this time the Doctor doesn't freak out. He raises a hand and knocks on the door, slowly, four times. I gasp, and the Doctor looks over to me, but there's no time to explain because the door opens and there stands Abraham Lincoln himself. The Doctor's attention returns to the door as he quickly offers his hand.

"I'm the Doctor," he introduces himself, "It's a pleasure to meet you." The Doctor's smile is so joyous that I can't help laughing. My own smile widens. After Abe releases the Doctor's hand, he turns to me.

"My dear maiden, what is your name?" he asks me. I blush as he takes my hand and gently kisses it.

"Oh, you can call me Ms. Smith," I tell him, not willing to tell my real name, even to Abraham Lincoln. He steps aside, allowing us passage through the door. The Doctor helps me up the stairs and passes through the door behind me. My breath hitches as I see the White House in its full glory. I stare at the ceiling high above me, adorned with ornate designs. Abe steps inside and closes the door behind him. I admire his whiskers, which, mind you, are much nicer in real life. The Doctor's grin is huge as he admires the room we are standing in.

"The War," the Doctor starts suddenly, "How long has it been going on?" He looks down from the ceiling to Abe's face, glancing over the specs he has placed on his face. Abe clears his throat, clearly not pleased with this subject.

"How can you not know?" he asks, worry taking over his features. He sighs, taking a seat. Seeing his distress, I ask another question.

"What is the date?" He looks up at me, confused a moment.

"The 29th day of December in the Year of Our Lord 18 hundred and 62," he answers. I nod.

"How is the Emancipation coming?" the Doctor asks, clearly holding in his excitement. Abe glances up to him.

"Where have you been? You know of the War, but not how long it has been going on. You know of the Emancipation, when it has barely been out more than a month. You know not the date. I find this mighty odd. Who are you? You travel together, but lack the same accent. You are not both from the same place, so I must ask. How did you meet? And how did you come to look for me?" Abe stares up at us as both of our faces contort in confusion. I glance at the Doctor, who seems to be forming a backstory in his mind.

"We've been traveling," I burst out, "News gets to us slow when we're always on the run. We had heard of the War, but did not know how it was coming or how long it had been going on. We had heard of the Emancipation, but did not know if it had been issued yet. We did not know the date because it was hard for us to keep track when we were always on the road." I take in a deep breath, preparing to continue, but the Doctor saves me.

"She's my daughter. I migrated here from the shores of Great Britain itself. I fell in love with a Southern lady and we married. She bore me this lovely child here," he squeezes my shoulders, "But I had to leave. I am a medical professional, you see, and I had to go back to Great Britain to finish my degree. She was raised by her mother, who had a Southern accent, while I had to go back home, thereby maintaining my accent. We travel together because after her mother died, I didn't want to leave her alone, so I abandoned my medical career to be a good dad. The kind of dad I had not been before. Now we travel the world together, creating the ultimate father-daughter relationship," he finished grandly. I examine the Doctor's face. We look enough alike that the lie is believable. Abe's eyes widen, as he realizes the similarities.

"I apologize. I did not know," he says, his eyes still flitting between us. The Doctor nods.

"It's okay," he says, smiling. I reach for his hand that has snaked around my shoulders. "We're over it now. It happened so long ago," the Doctor says. His eyes drift in the perfect replica of memory lane. I tug on his sleeve, playing along.

"Dad," I whine, "Come back to the present. Mom is long gone." He shakes his head, and I realize he wasn't pretending. I shudder, knowing who he was thinking of. I think back. The incident is fairly recent to him still. He has yet to meet Martha. "I'm sorry," I whisper, so only he can hear. Abe clears his throat. The Doctor jerks back to the present at the sound.

"So, the War. I know it is an uncomfortable topic, but I must know. How long until it will end, do you think?" the Doctor asks, carefully wording his question. I can see he still remembers the pain from his flashback, and I try to sympathize with him. But I have never felt pain as great as his. I have never lived on without my closest friend beside me. Never had to bear the weight of a mass murder. I search his face as he speaks to Abe, and their conversation fades into the background. His eyes are sad and old and distant. Looking at them frightens me, but I do it nonetheless. I can easily see that he is feigning the joy he shows Abe now. Before it might have been sincere, but now he hides his pain behind it. I am pulled out of my thoughts as the Doctor pats my arm. He looks down at me, asking silent questions. I realize I have missed something important in the conversation that I tuned out.

"Can you ask the question again?" I ask, trying my hardest not to show my inattention. The Doctor chuckles.

"Abraham just asked if we would like to accompany him to the theatre. What do you think, dear?" he repeats the question, whilst still acting the part of my father. I nod slowly.

"Will we get to sit in the President's box?" I ask, remembering who we are speaking to. Abe nods.

"Of course, my dear," he promises. I turn to the Doctor, a huge smile spreading across my lips. His face reflects my expression.

"Can we?" I ask him. He nods.

"Why not?" We turn to Abe who stands at smiles at us. He strides to the door and puts on his coat and famed top hat. I gasp as I see him turn. His profile looks identical to the many pictures I have seen of him. The Doctor's smile widens as he sees what I see. Abe holds the door open for us kindly. As the Doctor and I pass through the door, we share a look of pure excitement.

"We're going to the theatre with Abraham Lincoln," I whisper, "If my friends didn't believe it when I met Elvis, they surely won't believe this!" The Doctor laughs at my excitement. A black car pulls up to the curb. Abe pulls open the car door and motions for me to get in. I climb in the back with the Doctor right behind me. Abe climbs in last and pulls the door closed behind him.

"We're going to the theatre," he tells the driver. The car begins to move, and I survey the car around us. The windows have a light tint, but people can still see clearly through the glass. The back seat is separated from the driver by a glass panel, quite like a taxi cab. The car stops and Abe opens the door for us again. I climb out and stand on the pavement, looking at the world around me, covered in snow. No one even gives us a second glance. Until Abe steps out of the car. Suddenly, those walking down the street roar with applause. Abe waves to them before ushering us into the theatre.

The warm air from the theatre slaps my face, reddening my cheeks. I sigh as the cold starts to vanish. The Doctor wraps an arm around my shoulders.

"What are we going to see?" he asks Abe. Abe scans the lobby then turns to us.

"Whatever happens to be showing. Which appears to be _Our American Cousin_," he says, reading a poster on the wall. I feel a shiver and look up to the Doctor. A dark shadow has crossed his face.

"Might as well watch it now," he whispers, "While he still has the chance." I nod.

"This is the play he was watching when he was shot," I sigh, "At least he'll get to see it once." The Doctor squeezes my shoulders. Abe turns back around to us.

"Let us go. I cannot wait to see it," he strides towards the back hallway, towards the entrance to the Presidential Box.

Halfway through the play, I realize exactly what is happening. I'm living the moment when Abraham Lincoln was shot. Except, this time the story has a different ending. A happier ending. I find myself glancing at Abe more than once. The Doctor catches quite a few of my glances. Eventually, he leans over to Abe and whispers something in his ear. I realize tears have begun to fall down my face. Abe turns to me and nods. The Doctor stands and pulls me up beside him. He tugs on my arm, pulling me out of the booth. As soon as the door closes behind us, he turns to me.

"What's wrong? I looked over to you and you were crying. You kept glancing at," he pauses, "Oh." He gathers me in his arms. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. We should just go. I told Abe we had to leave so he isn't expecting us to go back in there," I feel his chin shift against the top of my head, "We should go." He releases me and grabs my hand. I squeeze his hand tight and he smiles down at me. "Allons-y," he whispers, playfully. We run towards the doors of the theatre.

The cold hits me hard, but I barely feel it as I run, hand-in-hand with my Doctor, to the TARDIS. A smile spreads across my face and I look up to see the Doctor smiling, too. We crash down the blocks between the park and the theatre. When we reach the park, we barrel through the outskirts of the Union camp. We stop right before we crash into the TARDIS doors. Both of us are laughing like loons. The Doctor barely manages to open the door and we both fall in, still laughing. I collapse onto the jump seat, my sides aching. He leans on the console, his eyes twinkling as he throws random switches and presses random buttons. The engines of the Old Girl begin to thrum with that lovely noise I have imagined for so long. I stand and walk over to the Doctor. I rest my hands on the console and open my mouth to speak, but I am flung to the ground by a sudden jerk. The engines stop and the Doctor stands, helping me to my feet.

"What could have possibly happened," he asks, dragging the screen over to him. He pulls his specs out his pocket and puts them on, reading the screen. "That doesn't make any sense," he says, one eyebrow arched.

"What is it?" I ask. He clears his throat and looks at me.

"We've landed. In Chicago. On February 13, 1929," he realizes, his voice raising. My eyebrows shoot to my hairline.

"What?"


End file.
